A Death Star Is Born
by the-one88
Summary: This is the backstory of the Death Star, and how it was constructed. Actually pretty hillarius. =) R&R, please, as it is my first fanfic!


A DEATH STAR IS BORN 

By Björn Törnqvist

**Imperial Throne Room, Courscant.**

'Emperor, you look great!'

'Don't make an ass out of yourself, Tarkin. It doesn't suit a man of your caliber.' Palpatine looks pissed.

Before him stands Moff Tarkin and a delegation of Imperial scientists. At his side stands the threatening figure of Darh Vader, looking badass.

'I'm _so_ sorry, Emperor. Have you had a rough day?'

'How about _you_ try ruling the galaxy 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and let's see how good _you_ manage.'

Tarkin coughs and whispers as Palpatine looks away.

'_Well, we all have our dreams…'_

'What!?'

'_Oh_ nothing!'

Vader cracks his neck, threatingly.

'_Ahem_, Emperor Palpatine, let me introduce Chief-Constructor Bevel Lemelisk' waving at the Twilék 'and Tol Sivron' waving at an Imperial officer 'workleaders for the MISBS project.'

'Gentlemen. Can I get you anything special? Coffee? Water?'

'Water, _please_.'

'Water.'

'What sort of water is it?' Tarkin asks as he sits down.

'Aquile.' Vader says.

Tarkin seems offended. 'I´ll have a coffee.'

With a wave of his hand, Vader sends a couple of water bottles floating through the air.

'Okay, Tarkin. Let's skip the formalities and get to business. I got your report and I _did_ see the plans…'

Tarkin takes his coffee as it comes flying, maybe a _little_ to fast than he wanted to.

'Even though I think they _are_ impressive…'

Tarkin raises his hand as a milk bottle comes flying.

'No milk.'

'… there is some minor details that I would like to discuss with you gentlemen.'

Vader crushes the bottle as it comes flying back, spraying milk on his coat.

'Damn.'

'But of course, Palpy! _Palpatine._' Tarkin says quickly, after a grim look from Vader. 'What is it that bothers you about the plans?'

'Well, to begin with, the_ name_! MISBS? It doesn't bring fear into the hearts of people, now does it?' He looks around the table.

Tol Sivron answers. 'Emperor, It is simply another word for – Mobile Imperial Space Battle Station. All projects get that kind of name, as they are awfully more simpler to file that way.'

'Oh. I understand. But that name will look really dumb in all our paperwork. I want something _simple_. And _powerful._'

They all think about it for a while. Suddenly Tarkin jumps up!

'The Planet Killer!'

'Not _that_ simple and powerful! I want something _epic_!'

'The Death from Above?' Bevel suggests.

'The Sunshield?' Sivron says. 'The Titanic?'

Vader leans down towards Emperor Palpatine.

'How about The Death Star?'

'_Please_!' Tarkin yells. 'You can´t be serious!?'

'No, I like it. It has a kind of dual meanings. Both hope and terror.'

Vader and Tarkin share glances of true hate.

'Right. Let's go through some construction issues.'

'Yes, Emperor.' Tol takes out a holoprojector.

'Cut the lights.'

'Yes, my master.'

Vader flicks a button.

The projector starts up. A 3D text appears, floating over their heads; VERY BAD GIRLZ. Then some heavy metal music, followed by girls doing very bad things.

Palpatine almost falls out of his chair, saved by Vader.

'What the…!?'

'I am _so_ sorry, Emperor! My daughter must have gotten hold of my holoprojectors! Wait just a sec!'

He switches projectors, followed by a weak 'what? no wait…' from Palpatine. Too late.

A huge Mobile Imperial Space Battle Station appears.

Tol begins to describe its functions.

'The Death Star is 120 kilometers in diameter. It has a Quadiumsteel Hull. A Hyperdrive Class 4, 5000 Imperial Turbolaser Batteries, 5000 Heavy Turbolaser Batteries, 768 Tractorbeams.'

'Okay, hold on a minute. Should something as important as our tractorbeams be so easy to turn off?'

'Sir, the simple tractorbeam procedure is a direct cause of the tragic incident on the Star Destroyer Ackyuna.'

Tarkin slaps his hand over his face.

'Emperor, all of our Stormtroopers are not so smart as we would want them to be. All we can do is to ease their work as much as we can.'

'True. True.' Palpatine agrees. 'Those bottomless pits then? Is to much to ask for some safety-railings? I mean, I admit that I'm ruthless, but _I_ am supposed to walk these corridors too, and my balance is not what it used to be.'

'It is not to much to ask for, Emperor, as long as you don't have anything against a total budget-raise of 36%.'

'_oh, I guess I´ll just have to be careful then…'_

He turns to Vader.

'Every time I'm onboard that thing, I want you to be with me, _all_ the time! The last thing I need is someone sneaking up on me from behind, tossing me down one of those bottomless pits!'

'Yes, my master.'

He turns back.

'Gentlemen. I am ready to overlook many of the minor flaws; the Polar-gravitation-matrix, the Equator-docking-sequence, the somewhat lousy dining rooms. But there is something I can _NOT_ have!'

He points towards the hologram.

'This exhaust-vent is _TOO_ _DAMN BIG_! What is this, 15 meters _WIDE!?_'

'Sir, you have to release the remaining radiation somehow. It would explode without that kind of vent.'

'So be it, but if I got a nickel for every jerk that could fly into this vent and knock out it´s reactor…'

He takes out a calculator.

'…then I could build _two_ of these things!'

Tarkin sighs.

'Where is this vent?' he says to his companions.

'Between the hemispheric equatorial channel.'

'What is the minimum requirement for ventilation?'

'We can move down to two meters.'

'How many turrets are there along this channel?'

'250 standard turrets. 250 ion cannons.'

Tarkin looks relieved.

'Emperor, we could move the vent down to two meters and add another 500 turrets along the channel. We can also put a radiation shield on the vent, to prevent any attacks.' 

Gesturing with his hands.

'Someone would have to fly along this channel like a rampaging mynock, avoid a thousand cannons and hit a target smaller than a womprat!'

He takes a zip of his coffee.

'Believe me, there is no one in the galaxy who could manage a shot like that.'

'Ahem!'

'Except for Lord Vader, of course…'

Tarkin takes another zip of his coffee, talking under his breath.

'_arrogant son of a…*GACK*_'

Tarkin acts like being choked, dropping his mug.

'VADER!!'

Vader raises his hands.

'I didn´t do anything! Honestly!'

Tarkin coughs.

'Sorry, it got stuck in my throat…'

'Oh. Right. Excellent! You have all done well. _Grand _Moff Tarkin, I will be monitoring the development of our new battle station with great interest.'

The delegation raise to their feet, and leaves. Vader notices the two holoprojectors on the table, picks them up and walk after them.

He taps Tol on his shoulder.

'You forgot this. You can´t just leave it lying around like that. It would be terrible if it got into the wrong hands and you would disappoint the Emperor, _Grand_ Moff Tarkin.'

'Yes, of course. T-Thank you Lord Vader.'

They walk away.

Vader turns on the projector he held hidden in his hand. VERY BAD GIRLZ appears in 3D text.

'Don´t mention it.'

THE END


End file.
